Happy Jack with a bullet hole
through one side of him was still Happy Jack.
"Aw, quit your beefin'," Big Medicine advised gruffly. "A feller
with a hole in his lung yuh could throw a calf through sideways
ain't got no business statin' his views on nothin', by cripes!"
"Aw gwan. I thought you said--it didn't amount t' nothin'," Happy
reminded him, anxiety stealing into his face.
"Well, it don't. May lay yuh up a day or two; wouldn't be
su'prised if yuh had to stay on the bed-ground two or three
meals. But look at Slim, here. Shot through the leg--shattered a
bone, by cripes!--las' night, only; and here he's makin' a hand
and ridin' and cussin' same as any of us t'day. We ain't goin' to
let yuh grouch around, that's all. We claim we got a vacation
comm' to us; you're shot up, now, and that's fun enough for one
man, without throwin' it into the whole bunch. Why, a little nick
like that ain't nothin'; nothin' a-tall. Why, I've been shot
right through here, by cripes"--Big Medicine laid an impressive
finger-tip on the top button of his trousers--"and it come out
back here"--he whirled and showed his thumb against the small of
his back--"and I never laid off but that day and part uh the
next. I was sore," he admitted, goggling Happy Jack earnestly,
"but I kep' a-goin'.
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